#feuilly needs more appreciation

[queenk1ller]

*folds my hands in front of myself, like i’m about to make a business deal*

good morning les misérables community. i hope this finds you well.

#les amis #les miserables #les mis #les miserables fanart #enjolras #grantaire #combeferre #courfeyrac #bahorel #bossuet #jehan prouvaire #joly #feuilly #feuilly needs more appreciation #shivers in fear #guys i’m scared i’m posting on tumblr for the first time #it’s okay . hey lgbtq community #i mean les mis community #i love you sub-catagory of the les amis .. #anyways if i don’t get ran out of this place i’ll be glad to post more of it is wanted.. #many are waiting in the vault.

[kjack89]

Dial Drunk

5 times Enjolras bailed Grantaire out of jail, and one time, well...

The door of the holding cell clanked open and as one, the nine men sitting inside glanced up. “Alright,” the booking officer said in a bored tone, glancing down at his clipboard. “Bail’s been posted for arrestees Bahorel, Combeferre, Courfeyrac, Enjolras, Feuilly, Joly, Lesgle and Prouvaire. You’re free to leave after you sign out at the front desk.”

There were a few grumbles as the men started to get to their feet, but Enjolras remained resolutely seated, his brow furrowed with a frown. “What about Grantaire?”

The man in question chuckled darkly, tilting his head back to rest it against the wall of the holding cell. “Is that actual concern for me that I hear, Apollo? I could die happy.”

Enjolras ignored him. “Pontmercy was supposed to post bail for all of us,” he said instead, aiming his words at Courfeyrac as if the man was somehow still responsible for the actions of his former roommate some five years after they had stopped living together.

Courfeyrac just shrugged. “Don’t look at me,” he said. “I mean, we all know Marius is a bit of an idiot, maybe he miscounted.”

Combeferre shook his head. “I’m probably wrong and should defer to the lawyers amongst us but I thought I remembered reading something in one of the articles about reforming pre-trial detention that an individual can only post bail for 8 detainees at a time.”

“And so I must’ve drawn the short straw,” Grantaire sighed. “Story of my fucking life.”

Bossuet clapped him sympathetically on the shoulder. “On the other hand, you could take it as a compliment that Marius thinks you’re the one most likely to survive an extended stay behind bars.”

Bahorel snorted so loudly the bars of the cell almost rattled. “Sorry but literally not a single one of us would survive an extended stay behind bars.”

“Speak for yourself,” Feuilly said. “I know how to whittle.” At the blank looks he received, he huffed a sigh and added, “So I can make a shank. No wonder none of you would survive in jail.”

“This is making our goal of prison abolition seem oddly self-serving,” Joly murmured in an undertone to Jehan, who stifled a laugh.

Combeferre cleared his throat. “Not that I’m not sympathetic to Grantaire having to be stuck in here, but I’d just like to remind everyone that since Marius posted bail, we’re technically now here voluntarily.”

“Yeah so GTFO,” Grantaire said with a grimace masquerading as a smile. “Let me rot in peace, etcetera.”

Enjolras looked like he wanted to argue more, but Combeferre muttered something in his ear and he made a face before filing out of the cell. “Serious miscalculation on Marius’s part with this one,” Courfeyrac said brightly as he followed everyone else out. “Because God knows you’re going to complain about this for the rest of all time.”

Grantaire gave him the finger and Courfeyrac winked as the officer closed the cell door behind him.

Sighing again, Grantaire sat upright, rolling his shoulders and cracking his neck before settling back against the bench. “You need anything?” the booking officer asked.

Grantaire shook his head. “Nah,” he said dismissively. “Not my first rodeo. Hopefully I won’t be stuck overnight, but I’ve slept in worse places.”

“Oh, yeah?” the officer said with mild interest.

Grantaire nodded. “Central booking at the 16th Precinct is a piece of shit,” he said brightly.

The officer barked a laugh. “I’ll keep that in mind.” He gave Grantaire a long look. “Should I ask what you were picked up for previously?”

Considering the answer to that question was a vast litany of misdemeanors (and felonies reduced to misdemeanors) that the boys in blue tended not to appreciate, Grantaire hesitated. Thankfully, he was saved from having to answer at all by the crackle of the officer’s walkie-talkie. “Just a moment,” the officer told him, heading out of the booking area and Grantaire let out a sigh of relief as he slumped on the bench.

“You’re free to go,” the officer said upon returning, and Grantaire looked up, surprised.

“Really?”

The officer nodded, opening the door to the holding cell. “Bail was posted. So I guess you’ll have to save your rap sheet for the next time you’re in here.”

Grantaire snorted a laugh. “I’d say there won’t be a next time, but…” 

He ducked out before the officer could respond to that, making his way to the front desk, stopping in his tracks when he saw Enjolras leaning against the desk, clearly waiting for him. “What’re you doing here?”

Enjolras straightened. “It didn’t feel right leaving you in there,” he said with a shrug that didn’t quite come across as nonchalant as he’d probably intended. “And I happened to have some cash on me, so…”

“Between this and being worried about my welfare, you’re gonna give me the wrong impression,” Grantaire said.

“Guess that depends on what impression you’re getting,” Enjolras said, and Grantaire’s eyes flickered to his and away again, feeling suddenly tongue-tied. Enjolras cleared his throat, a faint blush coloring his cheeks. “Anyway, we should get to the Musain to debrief.” He glanced at Grantaire. “Unless you’ve got something better to do.”

Grantaire just shook his head, and gestured for Enjolras to lead the way. “After you,” he said, his voice low, and together they walked out of the precinct, their arms just brushing against each other as they headed to meet their friends at the Musain.

— — — — —

“Jesus Christ,” Enjolras muttered as the booking officer removed the handcuffs from a sheepish-looking Grantaire. Well, as sheepish as a man sporting the beginnings of a pretty impressive black eye could look, anyway. “Here,” Enjolras said roughly, holding an ice pack out to Grantaire. “I posted your bail as well.”

“Thanks,” Grantaire muttered, taking the ice pack and wincing as he pressed it against his eye.

Enjolras pursed his lips as he gave him a once-over. “Any other injuries I need to worry about?” he asked.

Grantaire just shrugged. “Nothing that won’t heal on its own.”

“Because that’s reassuring,” Enjolras sighed, rubbing his forehead, but when he looked at Grantaire again, there was something almost soft in his expression. “You didn’t need to do that.”

What he could see of Grantaire’s expression tightened, just slightly. “You didn’t hear what that guy called you.”

He said it calmly, evenly, but his hand automatically balled into a fist at the memory. Enjolras reached out automatically to rest his hand on Grantaire’s fist until it relaxed. “It doesn’t matter what he called me,” he said, his voice low. “I can take care of myself.”

“Of course you can,” Grantaire scoffed. “But that doesn’t mean you should have to.”

Enjolras just shook his head, running his thumb across Grantaire’s bruised knuckles, a testament to the fact that despite the black eye, he’d emerged from the fight victorious. “I should’ve brought another ice pack,” he murmured.

Grantaire just half-smiled, twisting his hand so that he could lace his fingers with Enjolras’s. “It’s fine,” he said softly. “It doesn’t really hurt at the moment anyway.”

Enjolras cleared his throat and looked away, but he didn’t try to untangle his fingers from Grantaire’s. “Well,” he said, “we should, uh, get out of here.”

“Before they realize you have about a half dozen outstanding warrants for your arrest?” Grantaire asked with a smirk, his voice quiet enough that only Enjolras could hear.

“You’d be amazed what having a multi-million dollar settlement pending against the city will do to the police’s willingness to bring you in,” Enjolras said with a smirk. “Not that I want to test that, of course.”

“Liar,” Grantaire said, grinning. “But better safe than sorry, I suppose.”

He started toward the door, pausing when Enjolras didn’t immediately follow. “Thank you, by the way,” Enjolras said, and Grantaire glanced back at him.

“Anytime,” he said simply. “Thanks for bailing me out.”

Enjolras gave him a look that was half-amused, half-exasperated. “Just don’t go making a habit of it,” he warned. “One day I won’t be here to bail you out.”

“Only because you’ll probably be locked up with me,” Grantaire said.

“Well,” Enjolras murmured, not quite able to stop his smile, “you’re not wrong.”

— — — — —

Grantaire rested his elbows against the bars of the holding cell, his arms dangling into what was technically freedom on the other side. The booking officer, some new guy he didn’t recognize, gave him a look but didn’t say anything, which he took as a small victory, and he allowed himself a small smirk.

A smirk that faded as soon as he saw Enjolras, escorted by another officer. “No dice on bail?” Grantaire asked, seeing the look on Enjolras’s face.

Enjolras shook his head. “No, they’re going to go through the whole arraignment rigamarole. I’ve already let Pontmercy know.” He made a face, casting an irritated look at the booking officer who was pretending not to listen to their conversation. “Apparently they take battery of a police officer pretty seriously these days.”

“Can’t imagine why,” Grantaire muttered. Enjolras sighed and Grantaire gave him a look. “Don’t even start,” he warned. “This wasn’t about you not being able to take care of yourself—”

“That wasn’t what I was going to say,” Enjolras interrupted, his voice tight. “I’m well aware that cop would’ve bashed my head in if you hadn’t intervened.” He shook his head and sighed again. “I was going to say thank you.”

“Oh,” Grantaire said, managing a tight smile. “You’re welcome.”

Enjolras just shook his head again. “You still shouldn’t have done it,” he continued, “because honestly, I’m not worth all that—”

“You are, though,” Grantaire said, in a tone that brooked no argument. Enjolras scowled and Grantaire rolled his eyes. “Fine, then why don’t we make a deal?” he said. “I’ll stop defending you when you stop bailing me out.”

“At the rate you’re going, I won’t be able to anyway,” Enjolras said sourly. “Not without putting up some major collateral.”

Grantaire shook his head. “And I’m definitely not worth that,” he said.

Enjolras’s eyes met his. “You are, though.”

For a moment, it looked like Grantaire might argue. Instead, he reached for Enjolras’s hand, bringing it up to kiss his knuckles through the bars of the holding cell. “No touching,” the booking officer barked, and Grantaire rolled his eyes as he reluctantly let go of Enjolras’s hand. 

“Will you be at my arraignment?” he asked.

Enjolras shrugged. “Someone’s got to post whatever bail amount the judge decides,” he said.

Grantaire half-smiled. “In that case, I’ll be the one in the front.” 

“Pretty sure that’ll be the judge,” Enjolras murmured, grinning when Grantaire rolled his eyes. “I’ll see you tomorrow. I promise.”

“It’ll be the only thing that gets me through spending the night in here,” Grantaire told him, and it was Enjolras’s turn to roll his eyes, though there was obvious affection in the motion.

“Pretty sure Bahorel was right,” he said. “You definitely wouldn’t survive in jail.”

Grantaire just shrugged. “Only if you were in there with me.”

Enjolras shook his head, reluctantly backing away toward the door. “Still time,” he said, and Grantaire’s eyes narrowed.

“Don’t you dare do anything stupid while I’m locked up in here.”

Enjolras just smirked. “See you tomorrow,” he called over his shoulder as he left, and Grantaire sighed, though there something strangely content in the noise, despite, or maybe because of, the circumstances.

— — — — —

Grantaire didn’t meet Enjolras’s eyes as he rapped his fingers impatiently against the front desk at the precinct, waiting for them to bring him his personal effects. “Do you have any idea what time it is?” Enjolras asked, his voice tight. Grantaire looked pointedly at the conspicuous clock on the wall and Enjolras’s scowl deepened. “Exactly, it’s 2 in the fucking morning. I have a 7 o’clock meeting, which you knew damn well, so why you had to go pick a bar fight with some guy twice your fucking size—”

“So sorry to be an inconvenience to you,” Grantaire drawled, slurring his words just slightly. “Can’t imagine what it must be like to have made plans that get interfered with by someone else’s priorities.”

Enjolras ground his teeth together. “Are we really doing this here and now?” he asked.

Grantaire just jerked a shrug, not meeting his eyes. “Do you have something better to do?”

Enjolras sighed and scrubbed a tired hand across his face. “I’m sorry that I had to cancel tonight,” he said, with as much patience as he could seemingly muster, considering the circumstances. “But I needed to get this proposal done ahead of the meeting tomorrow, and I don’t really see what the big deal—”

“You never do,” Grantaire interrupted, still not looking at him. “That’s the problem.”

“You knew going into this—”

“Just like you knew going into this that I’m a drunk and a disaster,” Grantaire interrupted, finally looking at Enjolras, his expression hard. “Well, congratulations, Apollo, it looks like we both knew what we were getting into and yet somehow, we’re both still disappointed.”

Enjolras just shook his head. “I’m not,” he said tiredly. “I’m not disappointed, Grantaire, because that would require me to actually expect better from you, and I learned my lesson on that a long time ago.”

Grantaire just grinned, a horrible, twisted grin. “Right back atcha.”

The officer returned with Grantaire’s belongings, and Grantaire grabbed his phone, wallet and keys, returning them to his pockets. Enjolras took a deep breath, but whatever he clearly wanted to say seemed to stick in his throat, and he looked away. “C’mon,” he said instead. “Let’s go home.”

Grantaire nodded once, shoving his hands in his pockets as he slumped after Enjolras, neither man touching the other.

— — — — —

“He’s not technically under arrest,” the cop told Enjolras as he led him back to the holding cell. “But that’s because we couldn’t really mirandize him when he was passed out.”

Enjolras eyed Grantaire, sprawled across the bench in the holding cell, and sighed. “So once he’s coherent, he’ll be charged with, what, drunk and disorderly?”

The officer nodded. “Yeah.” He glanced at Enjolras. “Look, it’s not my place, but, uh, maybe look into getting your friend some help?”

“Yeah,” Enjolras murmured, his expression drawn. “Maybe.” He sighed and turned. “Guess I’ll go preemtively pay his bail—”

“Apollo?” Grantaire croaked, and Enjolras sighed again.

“Give us a moment?” he asked the officer, who just shrugged.

Enjolras crossed to the bars of the holding cell, his arms crossed tightly in front of his chest. “Tell me,” he said, his tone clipped, “were you trying to get hit by a car by passing out in the street, or would have just been a fun little side effect of this spectacular attempt at blowing up your life?”

Grantaire groaned as he forced himself into a sitting position. “Honestly don’t remember if it was deliberate or not,” he muttered, swaying slightly as he blinked unfocusedly at Enjolras.

“There are easier ways of killing yourself,” Enjolras said.

Grantaire managed a small, sharp smile. “Don’t worry, I’ve considered those as well.”

Enjolras’s expression tightened and he looked away. “You used your one phone call for me,” he said.

Grantaire shrugged. “Didn’t know who else to call.”

“Probably anyone besides your ex.” Grantaire flinched and Enjolras sighed before telling him, as firmly as he could manage, “This is the last time. Do you understand?”

Grantaire barked a dry, humorless laugh. “If there’s one thing I can promise, Apollo, it’s that this won’t be the last time.”

“Maybe not for you,” Enjolras said. “But I’m done. So the next time you get picked up for a bar fight or public intoxication or whatever suicidal shit you decide to get yourself into next time, call someone else.”

He didn’t wait for Grantaire to answer, just turning on heel to leave him in the holding cell while he went to go pay his bail.

One last time.

— — — — —

The phone rang, and rang again, and Grantaire’s grip on the phone tightened. “Come on,” he muttered to himself. “Come on, pick up, pick up.”

But the phone just rang until the tinny, robotic voice informed him that no voicemail had been set up for this phone number, and he heaved a sigh as he hung up, a headache blooming in his temples that had absolutely nothing to the better part of a handle of whiskey that he’d worked his way through that evening. 

“Nothing?” the booking officer asked, and Grantaire ground his teeth together at the fake sympathetic tone.

“Nope,” he said, popping the ‘p’, and he scrubbed a hand across his face before heading back to the holding cell.

The booking officer trailed after him. “Do you, uh, want to try calling someone else?”

Grantaire just shook his head. “No,” he said, crossing his arms in front of his chest as the officer opened the door of the cell for him. “I’ll try again later. He’s probably asleep.”

The officer glanced up at the clock that showed it was barely 10pm, and he shook his head as he closed the door after Grantaire. “Your choice,” he said with a shrug.

Grantaire sighed heavily as he slumped down onto the hard metal bench, his fingers twitching as if he wanted to reach for an absent glass or bottle of beer, or else for a hand that used to be his to hold. His throat felt tight and he swallowed hard, tilting his head back to rest it against the wall of the holding cell.

He closed his eyes against the tears that he could feel prick in the corners of his eyes, though he honestly didn’t know if he was crying because Enjolras hadn’t picked up, or because there was a part of him that still thought that maybe, in the morning, he would. One more time.

#ExR #Enjolras x Grantaire #Enjoltaire #Enjolras #Grantaire #Les Amis #fanfiction #Les Miserables #modern AU #5+1 things #developing relationship #established relationship #and because it's me #former relationship #mild angst

[grandpermitsof82]

Les Mis / F1 Cross Head Cannons (I realised I have lots of thoughts and opinions actually that must be shared)

I do not think I have seen these two objects of my hyperfixation mixed before and I aim to rectify this error of our ways cause it could be so perfect.

To establish that there's still like the current teams on the grid, Javert and Val Jean would be team principles, so would Fantine (cause girl power!), M. Mabeuf and maybe like Tholomyes (we need a bad guy team principle it's only necessary to balance out the universe also he gives Christian Horner vibes). So like Javert team principle for Mercedes, he's sexy and serious just like Toto (we love you Toto), VJ is team principle at Ferrari cause like Montreuil-sur-Mer he's here to make Ferrari great again. We can give Tholoymes Red Bull, he started great and found out he's the worst. I would think that M. Mabeuf probs like vibes with Aston Martin, he is not similar to Stroll but I think the atmosphere of the team vibes with him. M. Myriel can have Alfa Romeo, cause it's like the sister team kind of to Ferrari and I think that's cute and he and VJ would totally like have zero drama with each other. And also, I would totally be able to see Javert beefing it out like Toto does with the "I have it printed out... you change your car" and is the cute little rule abider like we know he is.

Now to start with organising teams I would like to start that Combeferre would absolutely drive for Mercedes no questions asked the vibes are correct and will not take any other suggestions. I think Combeferre and Courfeyrac would be team merc, Combeferre would be more experienced of the two and Courfeyrac gives me Mick Schumacher vibes (golden retriever vibes big time). They would have minimal team drama but you would get the best like team promo's out of them (wait omg it's giving Nico and Lewis levels of bromance before the big split of 2016).

Enjolras would drive for Ferrari, he is the french equivalent of mr. il predestinato charles leclerc, also he just rocks red (he definitely is one of the rare few that one f3 and f2 rookie season and not to mention the scarily patriotic vibes of Ferrari and tifosi). Team mates with probs Feuilly, cause they get along super well and Feuilly would be scarily good and so they like push each other with a healthy amount of competition (they give Charles and Carlos vibes, well Feuilly would definitely be under-appreciated by fans like Carlos).

Redbull gets Grantaire and Eponine (can we pretend that there's actual real diversity and inclusion in the sport). They give the biggest Maxiel vibes (love each other with so much competition on the track), Grantaire and Eponine would absolutely crash other driver interviews (probs Grantaire to Enjolras for attention). Grantaire gives strong Daniel Ricciardo vibes, the grids biggest jokester (also I mean Dani Ric literally has his own wine company and he's aussie and we aussies can drink from sun up till sun down, and he loves vegas). The team dynamic would be what Dan/Max was with Grantaire being more experienced than Eponine however I believe she could absolutely dominate the grid like Max is doing with a good car.

Special mention of the Grantaire and Enjolras rivalry because this is crucial information. It's giving Charles and Max rivalry which existed since the beginning of time, "Just an inchident = do you permit it". Hate each other (or do they), crazy competitive (would totally have shunts that were like Lewis and Max in 2021 and would each get super angry). Grantaire would totally be like Daniel and shout Enjolras' name across the paddock during interviews and team debriefs. The slow pining/slow burn where they can eventually stand each other (it's definitely a different kind of tension wink wink).

For Aston Martin the drivers would be Bahorel and Marius. Marius has the quiet and nervous energy of Lance and also would probably definitely be a pay driver (more like a pay driver like Lando is but because he's quiet and fans love drama he would definitely be called out on his money situation) he get's better as the years go on. Bahorel would have the super aggressive driving style of like Fernando and also jokes around a shit ton, definitely with Grantaire during drivers meetings, all the time (he just fits the vibe of what Aston Martin is now a days), but he would absolutely be an experienced world champion winning driver (maybe have 1 or 2 under his belt).

The McLaren pair is Bossuet and Joly. Bossuet would be like Fernando Alonso, the guy has made some of the most unluckiest team switches in history and like joined Mclaren during a not so great stage and after Joly joined the team (Joly is giving if Oscar Piastri was a hypochondriac because yes Joly would be an incredibly talented driver just doesn't have much experience on the grid).

RB/Alpha Tauri (why the hell is it named Visa Cash App RB, I hate it), would have Cosette and Gavroche. It would be impossible to not compare Yuki and Gavroche, definitely thought that swear words were normal vocab in the english language, a feisty driver with buckets of talent. Cosette would definitely be like a sort of parental figure, has experience in the team and also has a firm driving style but not careless inexperience like Gavroche so she is definitely helping him improve. Cosette would sorta be like Sebastian Vettel (cause hell yeah power to women, we love women), the most caring and adoring soul who got over the super rebellious phase that won her multiple championships and definitely has something going on with Eponine in their history (Cosette would be a former Red Bull driver who stepped out and then back into the sport).

Musichetta and Jehan would be drivers for Williams. Musichetta would definitely be in the Mercedes pipeline and like a more friendly version of George Russell, she would absolutely love the memes and is seen in the Mclaren garage all the time just to stir up rumours of all kinds like a girlboss. Jehan is like Albon (animal farm back home included, all the animals), definitely would have come from Red Bull after being dropped by them because Red Bull team higher ups are idiots. He would totally be a really good driver and drag that tractor of a car with Musichetta and put Williams in a good position for the constructors. He would absolutely have been previous team mates with Grantaire at Toro Rosso.

Haas goes to Montparnasse, don't ask why that's just the way it goes also cause I feel like he would definitely have done some shady shit in the sport (crashgate, spygate) and while he is an incredible driver he is a bit too prickly for other team mates (and also Haas previously has partnered with some sketchy people but they are on the up and up now).

#les mis #les amis #formula 1 #les mierables #les amis de l'abc #f1 #headcanon

[pilferingapples]

An Ongoing Effort to Index This Blog

You’re probably here for reference material! Here’s a tag list to hopefully make finding that easier!

Before I get into the tag lists, a note on my Editorial Policy, such as it is:  I truly appreciate corrections, warnings about bloggers/writers operating in bad faith, etc! But if you’re contacting me with actionable info please come off anon or leave me some other way to get hold of you, so I can follow up if I need more info! I don’t post or reblog incorrect or hateful material on purpose, which means if I missed something I probably need more information!  I’m happy to keep a convo private if asked, I just need to be able to verify my sources. 

That out of the way! The tags!

(I had all these linked before accidentally deleting this post once; it's going to be a While before I can repair those links. If you want to find any of these , just go to pilferingapples.tumblr.com/tagged/name of tag and it should work!) Les Miserables Specific: -BrickClub: former readthroughs - LM X.X.X (as in: LM 1.2.3): chapter specific tags -Fandom 101: stuff that��s hopefully useful for people just starting to look around ; if there’s something not here you think would be useful, let me know! -Fashion,or:  Canon Era Fashion : what it says on the tin - Les Misereference: a general tag of all kinds of things , if you just wanna binge canon-era reference - (Character) relevant: references and commentary specifically relevant to one character.  Note that this includes “barricade relevant”, “Amis relevant” as a group, and, yes, “sewer relevant” - (character) talk: discussion of a character/concept , like “ Grantaire Talk”  or “sewer talk”  -what’s the meta for:  a general catchall tag for analysis discussion; mostly older stuff- Paris in Canon Era:  historical info for the True Main Character ; incl. sewers, schools, etc  - maps : They Are Maps - FRev :  goofy fannish stuff and silliness about the French Revolution - FRENCH REVOLUTION: actual historical/ analytical posts about the French Revolution (NOT when Les Mis is set, but hugely influential!)  -Women in the Revolution: what it says! historical /analyses stuff about women in various revolutions and uprisings, though mostly the 1830s and the Frev.  Romanticism Specific:  - Actual Romantics : stories and histories on members of the French Romantic movement -Four People and a Shoelace: specifically about the Petit Cenacle/Jeunes France crew -Hugolania: trivia and random Hugo homages/commentary/fandom stuff. Because Hugo always  had a fandom. more, doubtless, as I think of them! Adaptations: - Les Mis Stage : things about /from the stage musical  -Les Mis Dallas, Dallas Les Mis :  the 2014 Dallas Theater Center modernized production -Les Mis 2012 : things about/from the 2012 musical movie  -Shoujo Cosette: the 52-episode anime; characters from this sometimes just get tagged SC(character)  -Les Mis Arai:  the multivolume manga - Other Adaptations : what it says on the tin , including other musical adaptations, movies, and tv shows  Fanwork Specific -(Character) art:  exactly what you’d expect  - Canon era fic :..again… - Modern AU : rarely needed, but sometimes! -Fic Rec, Ficrec-what it says  Character/ Group/ Ship/Pairing tags, when not just a character’s name : - The Pontmercy Friend: Marius  - All of Them : the Amis as a group -Most of Them: ALMOST all the Amis as a group -Poetry Smash: Bahorel and Prouvaire  -Justice and His Tutor: Enjolras and Feuilly  - Bini!, Bini:  Joly and Bossuet  - OMST3K: J/B/M, for reasons - Power Trio: Enjolras, Combeferre and Courfeyrac  - Party Trio: Joly, Legle , and Grantaire -To Watch Faith Soar: Enjolras and Grantaire Ships Ahoy:  any content focused on romance  (these are NEVER EVER Ship Tags): - Owl and Wren : Valjean and Cosette - Para Bellum: Bahorel and Gavroche

#pinned post #THANK YOU SEAGLASS #long post

[usergreenpixel]

JACOBIN FICTION CONVENTION MEETING 30: CLISSON ET EUGÉNIE (2009)

1. The Introduction

Hello, Citizens, and welcome back to Jacobin Fiction Convention! So, today’s the day we get a rather unexpected author on the scaffold in the spotlight - Napoleon Bonaparte himself! Yes, THAT Napoleon, so you can bet that this is a bit of a unique book.

Turns out in his youth the guy wanted to be an author and wrote the short story we’re about to dissect. Granted, it’s a story he never finished and was apparently extremely embarrassed about it later (I can relate to that), so this is the second reason why this particular review is going to be a unique one. I don’t think we ever had anything unfinished as a topic.

Anyway, you might be asking yourself how exactly I found out about Napoleon’s writing in the first place. For that I have to thank one of the Neighbors, @tairin , who first brought up his writings in conversation long ago. Luckily, the unfinished drafts were published in English in 2009, so translation is available for those who don’t know French. HOORAY!

Unfortunately, the book is a bitch to find online but a website called archive.org came to my rescue like the proverbial cavalry. You do need to make an account there but afterwards it’s possible to borrow this book for 14 days like you would do in a library and read it free of charge. That’s how I read the book, considering the fact that negative reviews of my mutuals made me unwilling to pay money for an ebook or a physical copy.

Is it that bad though? Let’s find out.

This review is dedicated to @tairin , @theravenclawrevolutionary and @michel-feuilly .

Okay, let’s begin!

2. The Summary

The book tells a tragic love story of, well, Clisson and Eugénie. So it’s a romance novel. Also, apparently, a self insert fic with Clisson standing in for Napoleon himself. I have no idea who Eugénie might be though.

People who already know my preferences might remember that romance is my least favorite genre, but I still decided to give the story a chance, so let’s talk about how that decision turned out.

3. The Story

Honestly, it has a lot of romance clichés so the story just wasn’t for me. I didn’t detest it or anything, but I didn’t like it either.

I did, however, appreciate the beginning which shows us Clisson as a talented soldier who is tired of combat and looking for something else in life. It made the narrative just a tad more relatable, in my opinion.

Another point in favor of the story is the fact that Clisson and Eugénie don’t fall in love at first sight and the story takes time for them to develop proper chemistry. I’m not the biggest fan of the “love at first sight” trope so yay for avoiding it!

As for the ending… a bit depressing and anticlimactic but, as someone battling depression, I could relate to Clisson as I had moments where I was close to the headspace he has in the ending. Funny how depression has changed my opinion on some melodramatic moments in media…

4. The Characters

The characters are a bit flat, but not as much as in works of some beginner authors. Since it’s a short story, I’ll only focus on the main characters.

I honestly expected Clisson to be more of a Gary Stu, but I didn’t really get those vibes and could even relate to him towards the end. He has a more gentle, vulnerable side that few people get to see and, at the end of the day, simply craves love and happiness. He is more than just a hero obsessed with war.

Eugénie… I don’t like her and don’t care about her reasoning. I don’t like cheaters. End of story. But I like the fact that she fucked up this way and we didn’t get a blameless perfect love interest. She’s more than that.

Trust me, my first attempts at creating characters were much worse than what we have here.

5. The Setting

I liked some descriptions in the book and, for a short story, Napoleon managed to create settings in a way that’s not bad. Not excellent, but not bad either.

6. The Writing

Personally I don’t really like the writing style, but I tend to have that problem with many works of the past. There’s just too much purple prose for me, but I know that some people appreciate it so hey, you do you.

7. The Conclusion

Overall, maybe I just had really low expectations but… I didn’t hate the story, nor did I like it. Romance genre is just not for me and I’m the absolute last person who should review romance novels.

I went in fully expecting to hate the story, but I don’t. Maybe I just have more patience for beginner authors, maybe I’m just in a good mood. Either way, I can’t quite recommend the book, but I still think it’s an interesting read, if only to get a glimpse into a facet of Napoleon that isn’t talked about much.

On that note, let us finish today’s meeting. Stay tuned for updates, Citizens!

Love,

Citizen Green Pixel

#history #frev #frev art #obscure frev media #jacobin fiction convention #napoleon bonaparte #frev literature #frev media #frev books #clisson et eugenie

[pumpkinspice-prouvaire]

Random fun question time!! If you were to give each Amis a pet, what animal would you give them and why?

ooooh EXCELLENT question, here's my answers. Some are die hard headcanons I have and others I just thought of, but all of them are right because I say so

Enjolras- Cat. He's a cat person 100%. He likes them because they're independent and self-sufficient, which is probably a quality he appreciates in people too. But also....they're soft. Lil paws. Slow blink. Also I feel like he had a cat when he was a kid, like a big fancy Persian or something. When he's an adult he adopts from a shelter.

Combeferre- African 👏 Grey 👏 Parrot 👏 Combeferre thinks people don't talk enough about the fact that parrots can literally speak. They fascinate him. So he has an African Grey and he teaches it tricks and phrases and speaks to it like it's human and it's the smartest bird you'll ever meet in your life. Also he taught it to mimic Courfeyrac, its impression is uncanny.

Courfeyrac- oooh he needs a big bouncy dog with as much energy as he has- a Labrador or a Collie or something. He loves big goofy dogs with big smiling grins, and he loves how every time he comes home his doggo is waiting there and is always so excited to see him again, it warms his heart. And he likes to go on jogs with it too.

Jehan- Is Jehan a dog person? No. Is Jehan a cat person? No. Jehan is a lizard person. They have an iguana and they like to put a lead on it and take it on the metro with them lmao. They actually like the amount of work that goes into caring for them, from cleaning the enclosure to the heat lamps to the live bugs they have to feed it. Plus it looks really cool.

Bahorel- everyone knows about my "Bahorel has a Newfoundland dog called Nemo" headcanon by now, it is an absolute classic. Bahorel loves big dogs because they look kind of fearsome and scary but most of the time they are gentle giants, and Bahorel can relate to that. Nemo in particular is the biggest ball of fluff and drool you will ever meet <3

Feuilly- Feuilly likes fish. He has a tank with a few goldfish, because they're low maintenance and nice to look at, but if he had more time he would love to get a tank full of tropical fish, he just thinks they're gorgeous and there's something very serene about watching them glide around the tank

Joly- Cat person Joly is canon so there's that for starters. He likes the easy affection and chilled out personality of cats, and plus he just thinks they're funny. He has lots of photos and videos of his cat doing dumb shit, and hundreds more photos of it just existing because.,,,.,,, so cute. Any time he speaks to anyone he's like Hello Would You Like To See My Son and then boom. Five hundred cat photos. He has a sphynx cat and likes to joke that it reminds him of Bossuet (he thinks he's hilarious- and he's right).

Bossuet- Pet rock because it's the only thing he can keep alive lmao. Ok not really. He likes cats because of osmosis from Joly (he does not look like Joly's cat- He doesn't), but I can also see him with gerbils or hamsters or something similar? I have no real reason for this he just has hamster vibes honestly

Grantaire- Dog guy. Not a purebread, a mixed breed. I feel like he likes dogs that aren't hugely energetic, but he likes the way having a dog forces him to get out of his bed and go for a walk at least once a day. He likes how loyal they are too. I feel like he didn't even try to adopt a dog, one just wandered into his house one day after him and a week later it was still there and he was like "huh. Guess I have a dog now?"

#headcanon #answered #animalssss!!!! #i got carried away with this lmao

[combeauferre]

☀️ for bahorel

☀️ - a nice day outside

Bahorel wakes up exhausted and aching, and he really isn’t sure why. Rolling over to glare at his clock, he finds it’s only a few minutes before his alarm will go off and he groans. There’s nothing special going on today, just him wandering around the house trying to convince himself to do some cleaning.

He hates to admit it but the house has been too lonely since Jehan moved out and in with Grantaire, and the quietness that hangs around is oppressive. He should be hearing Jehan’s singing coming from the kitchen while he makes his morning coffee and the occasional “shit!” as he inevitably knocks something or makes a mess. He considers, not for the first time, getting himself a cat, just to make things lively again.

Trudging into the kitchen, he finds the dishes still need doing from the night before, and he sighs, wishing there was someone else to help him with it. The old kitchen radio left with Jehan and without it the only sound is the kettle slowly boiling, and uneasiness slips into his stomach.

It’s not long after he’s made his coffee that his phone buzzes, Feuilly’s caller ID popping up on the screen.

“Hey,” he says, trying not to let the tiredness in his voice betray him.

“Hey Baz,” Feuilly starts, and he sounds more tired than Bahorel feels. “Can I ask a really huge favour?”

“You can always ask.”

“We’re meant to be taking the boys to that new nature reserve today,” he says, in between muffled sounds of “yes, calm down, I’m asking him now,” before talking back down the phone, “And Alexandre told me he doesn’t want to go unless his favourite Uncle Baz is there.”

Bahorel can hear from the tension in his voice that he’s expecting a no, that he’s got to go into work and he has to disappoint Alexandre, who adores him. He thinks of the dishes in the sink, thinks about how much more he’d love to spend the day with Feuilly and Éponine and their boys.

“Of course I’ll come,” he says after a moment. The sigh of relief from Feuilly makes him laugh. “Tough morning, huh?”

“How did you guess?”

By the time Bahorel reaches Feuilly’s place, the tiredness has ebbed away in favour of a gentle excitement. Alexandre is his biggest fan and Théo isn’t far behind, and anything involving him instantly seems to become ten times more exciting. They’re running out to meet him as he pulls up and Alexandre jumps into his arms as he steps out the car, making him stumble backwards with an “oof”. Feuilly and Éponine follow after, looking more than relieved to see Bahorel.

Once put down, Alexandre grabs Bahorel’s hand and begins dragging him towards the other car.

“Let’s go, let’s go!” he yells, bouncing with each word. Feuilly and Éponine share a look and Bahorel just laughs along, pretending as best he can that holding back from Alexandre’s pulling is the hardest thing he’s ever done.

When they reach the park, Bahorel sees how much his presence is really appreciated. Alexandre and Théo drag him off ahead, and every time he turns around it’s to see Éponine and Feuilly hand in hand, enjoying their quiet privacy. He feels something of an ache for it, but he pushes it aside in favour of becoming the boys’ personal climbing frame.

“Uncle Baz!” Alexandre bounces up and down alongside him on the balls of his feet, grabbing at his wrist. “Do the arm thing, come on!”

Bahorel makes a big deal of sighing and holding out his arm.

“Okay, but just this once, right?”

It has never been just this once, and they both know it. Out comes his arm, and Alexandre immediately latches on and lifts his feet up off the ground, swinging and giggling as Bahorel heaves him along. Soon enough Théo is at his other arm, bounding alongside and arguing with his brother that he’s hogging Bahorel and it’s his turn.

“Hey Théo, come on, there’s enough of me to go around,” Bahorel laughs, gently lowering Alexandre to the ground. Théo folds his arms across his chest and sticks his tongue out at Alexandre but the second Bahorel offers his arm he stops in favour of hooking his own round it. When Bahorel picks him up he swings back and forth and Bahorel just about manages to hold his weight.

“Careful there,” he says, “I’m not as strong as I once was.” He doesn’t know what will happen when the boys are both too big to be carried around like this, and he doesn’t want them to ever think they will outgrow him. The look Théo gives him says he knows he’s getting too big, but Bahorel just grins and offers him a piggyback to take his mind off it.

The longer they walk, the more the busy park fades away into quiet forest. The boys seem to gain some respect for it, only arguing in whispers and tongues stuck out at each other, and Bahorel does his best to keep the peace between them. They’re having a little spat about who’s turn it is to piggyback when Bahorel stops them, putting a finger to his lips and turning them towards the river beside them.

“Look,” he whispers. They both follow his finger to see a flash of blue and a splash in the water, so quick they almost miss it. Out comes the blue once more, and Théo whips around to look at Bahorel.

“What was that, Uncle Baz?”

Bahorel can tell how hard he’s trying to keep his voice a whisper despite his excitement.

“Kingfisher,” Bahorel tells him, “keep watching and we might see him again.”

Sure enough, the kingfisher settles itself on a branch above the water, eyeing the fish in the river. Bahorel gently turns his head, beckoning Feuilly and Éponine over quietly to watch as the kingfisher watches, waits, and shoots back into the water to have another go at the fish.

As soon as the bird is in the water, it’s gone again, and after another few minutes of silent watching they decide to move on. Somehow the silence of the last few minutes seem to have overridden the boys’ respect for the quiet of the forest and they are loudly squabbling about who should have the next piggyback. But Bahorel isn’t bothered by that; there’s only so much longer he’ll be their beloved piggyback giver, arm swinger, cool older uncle, and he’s going to cherish every moment of it.

#thank uuu #again sorry it's so late lol #ollie writes #ollie answers #earthbound-in-doubt #les mis #les amis de l'abc

[justgayrevolutionnaries]

feuilly for ze ask

Yes I love him I need to see more Feuilly appreciation he is awesome everyone should be like Feuilly

#thanks for the ask !! <3 #les mis #feuilly

[ohboipleaseno]

P o l a n d,

-aka the most underrated ami after Bahorel-

but he looks like a mom is a girl.

She looks like a cool mom. Like the friend's mom that when you talked about some annoying classmate would say "oh yes I can't stand their mother either". Pls ma'am adopt me.

Her hair here is g r e a t

T h e B i g F l u f f (tm)

but she she looks tired. Feuilly, sweetie, pls get more sleep I'm concerned about your health.

Is she okay? does she need some tea? Pls someone calm this woman down she looks like she's about to steal your knees- wAIT IS THAT A GUN NO MA'AM PLS HAVE MERCY

So far she doesn't look t o o beautiful but-

If you didn't like her at her

Then you don't get her at her

LOOK AT THOSE L I P S

LOVELY

LOOK HERE SHE HAS M O R E C U R L S

A DIVA, I STAN.

We all love Feuilly and she deserves it.

Fem Bahorel is her gf and they kick homophobes' asses together uwu

Also, yes that's Combeferre in the fourth picture. And yes I love fem Combeferre a lot so why did I cut her?

I hope this answers your questions:

#Feuilly #he's one of the mom friends in the group #so i stan fem feuilly looking like a mom #she's pretty tho #we all need more feuilly #the last one is cursed- #s a v a g e h a i r #Combeferre looks like an emo teen in 2010 #i stan fem Combeferre being emo #also #bahorel #fem bahorel is b e a u t i f u l #she needs more appreciation #les amis de l'abc #les miserables #les amis #les mis #pls give bahorel and feuilly some love #also their ship it needs m o r e attention- #what's its name? #idk #bahorel/feuilly #i love them so much

[anneangel]

Handwriting Analysis

I was analyzing the signatures of each of the amis following this image I found on the french wiki, the person who did this is kind of perfect;

image available in: https://les-miserables.fandom.com/fr/wiki/Les_Amis_de_l%27ABC

Handwriting Analysis

Grantaire's signature is large and with many sinuous curves, in addition to taking up much of the leaf. Large letters signal an outgoing, sociable person who likes the spotlight, larger letters indicate receptivity to other people and new experiences. Roundness means that he likes to keep people close to them happy, and curvy letters show he tend to be a creative and artistic person. Exaggerated roundness like the one shown in your R can also suggest ingenuity, communicability, loquacity, exaggeration or pedantry, but on the other hand it can also indicate false self-confidence and a desire to be who he are not. Another thing is that his handwriting is smooth on paper, lighter writing and less marked denotes sensitivity and compassion, usually accompanied by apathy.

  Finally, the way he takes the role disproportionately compared to colleagues may indicate a distortion in his own image, a need to be seen and/or a search to meet socio-affective needs.

Combeferre has a very small signature, small letters signify shyness, perfectionism and great ability to concentrate. His handwriting is strong too, that is, he uses pressure with the pencil and marks the paper more: People who write strongly take things seriously and tend to be inflexible. This shows how he is the sage, the guide, the philosophy of the group.

Enjolras's signature is kind of pointed: pointy signal someone who works hard and has ambition, also pointy letters represent intensity of feelings, aggression and intelligence. One thing to watch out for is that the end of the writing feels more rushed next to the rest: this could be impatience and appreciation for efficiency. Another notable thing is that the first letter E is well marked, pointed and bigger than the rest, this means a more aggressive initial presentation, and the rest letters however it appears more shy, withdrawn and soft afterwards. The rest of the letters are smaller and much closer and glued together, which may indicate that he like to be together with friends rather than alone.

Feuilly and Courfeyrac have signatures spaced out and in ample size, a larger spacing between words means that the person is independent and likes open spaces. They like freedom. It seems that they are free and creative spirits. Possibly childish and/or witty. Feuilly in particular has a very readable handwriting that demonstrates someone safe and content with themselves. Coufeyrac, on the other hand, has a very soft handwriting that even seems to get softer at the end, lighter and less marked writing denotes sensitivity and compassion.

Jehan writes in a punctuated and well-structured and detailed way, which speaks of his person, lyrics that are very ordely of methodical and orderly connection, in addition to a careful signature that means that it is a person independent and accurate. The lyrics also get closer which can mean softness and compassion, and a little apathy or melancholy.

Bossuet, he marks the end of words well, end marks and a tendency to go to the right side of the margin can indicate people who prefer to think about the future than stick to the past (This may explain why Bossuet has several unlucky experiences, but he is always witty).

Joly and Bahorel have illegible handwriting, an illegible signature can indicate a reserved person who values privacy. Bahorel, comes with a strong letter that marks the role more, strength indicates people who take things seriously and tend to be inflexible. Joly, on the other hand, being a doctor, this can influence and indicate that his quick and irregular signature show impatience and appreciation for efficiency.

P.s: keep in mind that this is superficial, a real analysis is much more thorough, detailed and analyzes more than one document in several different situations and dates, in addition to doing other tests and interviews with the person.

#les amis de l'abc #les amis #les miserables #les mis #enjolras #combeferre #courfeyrac #grantaire #R #joly #bossuet #bahorel #jehan prouvaire #feuilly

[aromantic-enjolras]

ExR, Eposette and Bahorel/Feuilly for ship asks!

My problem with shipping: Almost all of my ships are Shrödinger ships, to a certain point. I both ship it and don't ship it. But I'll try my best!

ExR:

What made you ship it?

There are so many fics about them that it's pretty easy to find some who are really, really, really good. And I'm a sucker for a well-written fic.

What are your favorite things about the ship?

I really enjoy the way some people use it to explore how Enjolras as an actual human being would be a really flawed person, and the way he contrasts with Grantaire makes him a good counterpoint. Also, the Frienemies to Lovers dynamic most people go for is really fun to read.

Is there an unpopular opinion you have on your ship?

HAHAHAHAHAA OH IS THERE, I WONDER

I mean, apart from the obvious one on the url of this blog, one very unpopular opinion I have about this ship is that the way most people write them, with them being in love almost against their better judgment and having explosive fights all the time... they wouldn't last a WEEK. It would be one of those relationships that is great at first, but would be impossible to maintain over time. Love is not enough, people. You need compatibility. And those two are Not Compatible.

Also, a lot of Grantaires out there are downright creepy.

Why don’t you ship it?

See last answer. Also, Enjolras is aromantic, thank you very much.

What would have made you like it?

Either mellowing down their personality traits a lot (making Enjolras a lot less intense about Revolution and Grantaire a lot more functional), or having them be older and implying they have worked through their issues before getting together. You might have noticed, every ExR I've ever written has them getting together in their late twenties to early thirties... That's not a coincidence.

Despite not shipping it, do you have anything positive to say about it?

Oh, absolutely! This ship has spurred so much good fic and so much good art. Even if I didn't ship it at all (and I kinda do, in the right context), I would appreciate it just for that reason.

I'll do the rest later, okay? ^^

#Answer time #answer game #Les Misérables #text posts #my posts #my opinions #Enjolras #Grantaire #ships #ExR #aro!Enjolras

[transrevolutions]

what your favourite les mis character says about you:

(for the record this is a joke please don't take it seriously)

valjean: you're either really new to the fandom or you've been here for a really long time. you probably have daddy issues and are projecting your need for a good father figure onto this man.

javert: you are deeply insecure about your place in the world. you have big Bastard Gay™ energy. you love morally grey characters and you probably watch buzzfeed unsolved.

fantine: you're a sucker for angst and you love strong female characters. you don't get as much appreciation as you should. you've probably been in at least one bad relationship (platonic or romantic) before. bruh I feel you.

marius: you are/enjoy the company of a himbo. politics probably scares you. you watch cheesy hallmark rom coms. you're almost certainly a dog person. you probably also have daddy issues, but to be fair, don't we all?

cosette: you're either highkey cottagecore or goth there's no imbetween. you probably sleep with stuffed animals. you're also most likely really really good at drawing, singing, or both. you like the outdoors.

eponine: you were a Weird Little Girl/Boy/Enby™ in elementary school. you're a night owl. you probably run a fanblog for at least one celebrity. you probably hate at least one member of your family with a burning passion. you like emo bands.

enjolras: you're either completely fucking fed up with the current state of the world and feel like arson-ing the entire government or you project onto grantaire without knowing it. there's no inbetween. (also you are 100% some part of LGBTQ+ there is no denying it)

grantaire: you probably hate your parents and have mental illness, but don't we all? you like art and you like being pretentious about it. the world probably depresses you. I know for a fact you aren't getting a good night of sleep dude please get some rest

combeferre: you're a nerd and/or you're suffering from gifted kid burnout. you wish you could live on a star trek style spaceship.

courfeyrac: you like glitter. you've almost certainly dyed your hair at least once. summer is your favourite season. you love pink lemonade and you drink starbucks frappuchino, don't try to hide it. you're probably really fucking popular but in a nice way.

jehan: you like classical literature. you probably do closet cosplay. you're a shameless romantic and you also probably have all the flower meanings memorized. you have an entire stock of green tea because you can.

feuilly: your favourite season is autumn. you probably wish you could run away and live with an entire pack of dogs. you like the underappreciated characters and you probably write meta essays.

joly: you like quirky characters. you're probably touch-starved and you are either a Flamboyant Gay or a Repressed Gay. you unironically did those school fitness challenges when you were younger.

bossuet: you are a positive attitude motherfucker. pogchamp for you. you probably like really bad puns. would give up your seat for a stranger. 10/10 the world need more people like you.

bahorel: you hate school with a burning passion. you'd fight god with your bare hands behind a 7-11 and I commend you for that. you've probably gotten suspended or kicked out of at least one class. you probably do/did team sports at some point.

musichetta: you're a sucker for healthy poly relationships. probably a feminist icon. you buy your coffee from ethical locally-owned brands and you put way too much cream in it. you probably have a shit ton of followers on social media.

gavroche: you say acab and you'd throw a rock at anyone who decides to be a dick. you also probably have daddy issues (sense a theme here?). you're a big-city person and you've thrown crumbs to the local pigeons ever since you were a child.

montparnasse: you're a goth try-hard just admit it bro. you listen to the emo trinity bands and you wear all black. impeccable sense of style. you probably low-key want to murder at least one person from your childhood.

#les mis #shitpost #what your favourite les mis character says about you #joke post #please dont take me seriously #les amis

[kjack89]

Put to the Sword

My fic for this year’s @lesmissamepromptficchallenge! The premise of this fic really only works when looking at the English translation and not the original French but whatever, that’s never once stopped me.

Developing E/R, canon era. Fluff with a touch of angst because of course.

Bossuet propped his chin on his hand, a small frown furrowing his forehead. “Does Enjolras have a sword?” he asked, more rhetorically than seeking an actual answer.

Luckily, Joly, seated at his side in the backroom of the Musain, followed his glance, and blinked twice. “It would appear so,” he said.

It perhaps spoke volumes about Enjolras that once Bossuet’s suspicions were confirmed, he did not feel the need to question further, instead simply shrugging and returning to his cup. But now it was Joly who frowned, and when he saw an opening to do so, he stood and made his way to Enjolras. “Need we all come so well-armed to Les Amis meetings in the future?” he asked, perching on the table next to where Enjolras sat.

Though it may only have been a trick of the candlelight, Joly was fairly certain that a slight flush rose in Enjolras’s cheeks. “I believe we are safe without weaponry, at least for now,” Enjolras said. 

“And yet you have not one but two swords,” Joly remarked mildly, having spotted the second, identical sabre leaning against the table on Enjolras’s other side.

There was no mistaking Enjolras’s blush this time. “Courfeyrac was meant to teach me some basic swordplay,” he muttered. “But it appears he has been waylaid en route this evening.”

From Enjolras’s tone of disapproval, Joly surmised that Courfeyrac had found a much more pleasurable companion for the evening. “As have a few of our number,” Joly agreed mildly, and if anything, Enjolras looked even more put out.

“So it would seem,” he said sourly.

Joly hesitated for only a moment before suggesting, “But if it’s a fencing teacher you seek, surely there are others among us who are equally skilled to be able to teach you.”

Enjolras arched an eyebrow. “Such as...?” he prompted, and Joly couldn’t quite stop the smile that twitched at the corners of his mouth.

“Such as Grantaire.”

For one moment, Enjolras looked as if he was contemplating it, but then he shook his head. “Grantaire is not inclined to do me any favors,” he said dismissively.

Joly gave him a look. “And how inclined have you been to ask him to do you any favors?” Enjolras opened his mouth to retort but no sound came out, and Joly allowed himself a small, triumphant smile before telling Enjolras innocently, “The worst he can say is no, were you so inclined to try.”

With that, he made his way back to Bossuet, who had watched this whole exchange with bemusement. “What were you doing?” Bossuet asked as Joly sat down.

Joly’s smile widened. “Meddling.”

Bossuet sighed. “How many times must I warn you against doing so?” he asked with a long-suffering air.

Joly patted his hand. “At least once more.”

Again Bossuet sighed, looking very much like he was regretting this evening immensely. “And what meddling could you possibly have done in regards to Enjolras’s sword?”

“Swords,” Joly corrected. “Courfeyrac was meant to teach him the basics of fencing, but some pretty gamine or another allegedly caught his eye early this eve, so I seized the opportunity I saw to recommend a different teacher.”

Bossuet cast him a baleful look. “Do not tell me—”

“It is not my fault that Grantaire has oft proclaimed himself quite adept at fencing,” Joly said innocently. “And if by teaching him swordplay, he might spend more time with the man he so venerates, I fail to see what harm could come from it.”

Bossuet sighed heavily and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Foot-fencing,” he said wearily, and Joly frowned.

“Pardon?”

“Foot-fencing, you idiot,” Bossuet repeated. “Grantaire is adept at foot-fencing – savate. Not actual fencing.”

Joly looked momentarily stricken. “Ah,” he said, glancing over at Enjolras, who was saying his goodbyes to Combeferre and Feuilly. “Well, what Enjolras doesn’t know is unlikely to cause him harm.”

Bossuet didn’t look nearly as convinced. “Perhaps not. But do you truly think putting Enjolras and Grantaire in a room together with sharp blades will result in no casualties?”

Joly reached for the wine bottle. “What I think is that this is no longer my concern.”

Bossuet considered it for a moment before holding his own cup out for Joly to refill. “On that point, at least, we can agree.”

----------

Enjolras had not been to Grantaire’s lodgings frequently enough that he should have the route memorized, but somehow his feet found their way there seemingly of their own accord, and when greeted by the closed door, Enjolras figured he had no choice left but to knock and to ask for Grantaire’s help.

No matter how much the idea pained him.

He gave the door two strong knocks and took an automatic step to wait for Grantaire to answer. It was only after he had already done so that he realized that the hour was quite late, and that he perhaps should have waited to call upon Grantaire in the morning, as the man might very well be in bed—

Grantaire opened the door, a small frown of confusion knitting his brow, confusion that was replaced by surprise when he saw Enjolras standing there. “Enjolras?” he asked, stepping into the hallway and closing the door behind him. “What are you doing here?”

Enjolras hesitated for a moment before blurting, “I have come to ask a favor.”

Grantaire arched an eyebrow. “Do your boots need blacking?” he asked mildly, and Enjolras scowled.

“Most hilarious.”

“I fancy myself quite amusing,” Grantaire agreed.

Enjolras’s scowl deepened. “I know you do.”

Grantaire cleared his throat pointedly. “So if not your boots, then how else may I serve you?”

There was no mistaking the double-entendre of his last words, and Enjolras flushed but refused to allow himself to be distracted from his purpose. “I want you to teach me to fence,” he said firmly.

Grantaire blinked. “To – what?”

“To fence,” Enjolras repeated, faltering when he saw the slightly blank look on Grantaire’s face. “I have been led to believe you are adept at fencing.”

“I am adept at a great many things,” Grantaire murmured, more to himself than to Enjolras. “My own skill aside, why do you wish to learn to fence?”

Enjolras squared his shoulders. “A battle is coming, even if I know not when. It seems a useful skill to have.”

Again Grantaire’s eyebrow rose. “You expect to do much fencing on the barricade?”

“I expect that I should be prepared to,” Enjolras shot back. “So will you help me or not?”

For a moment, it looked as though Grantaire might refuse. Then he shook his head slowly. “Let it never be said that Grantaire did not help the Cause when he was asked,” he said, which Enjolras supposed was as straightforward a ‘yes’ as he was likely to ever get from him. “Meet me at the Musain in a half hour and we shall begin your tutelage.”

Enjolras frowned. “Why the Musain?”

Grantaire glanced at the closed door behind him. “I am afraid my accommodations are likely not large enough for this particular endeavor.”

“Then why not outside?”

Grantaire gave him a look. “Where the police or any unfortunate bystander may happen upon us?” he asked, shaking his head. “Believe me, this is an activity best undertaken indoors and without an audience.”

Enjolras found he didn’t have a counterargument, so settled for jerking a stiff nod. “Very well. The Musain, in half an hour. I shall return now and ask any of our number that remains to clear out.”

“You do that,” Grantaire told him before disappearing back into his apartment, leaving Enjolras standing in the hallway, feeling very much like he was going to regret this.

----------

As it turned out, none of their comrades still lingered when Enjolras arrived, and he took the liberty of getting Grantaire a bottle of wine and a cup, figuring that he owed the man at least that much for agreeing to teach him, and at this late hour especially.

Grantaire arrived at the appointed time, still dressed in solely a shirt with no cravat or waistcoat, his shirtsleeves rolled to his elbows. “You would do well to remove your cravat and vest,” he told Enjolras. Now, allow me to examine what swords you expect us to use for this exercise in folly.”

Enjolras handed both blades to Grantaire. “I borrowed them from Courfeyrac, who said they were training blades,” he said. “Dulled so as not to cause much real harm.”

Grantaire took one blade in each hand, hefting them as he considered. Then, without warning, he tossed one to Enjolras, who grabbed for it but missed. “Some warning might be appreciated,” Enjolras said as he bent to pick it up.

“My apologies,” Grantaire said smoothly, but he didn’t sound particularly apologetic.

Enjolras made a face but did not press the issue further, instead holding the sword in front of him with both hands. Grantaire arched an eyebrow at him. “One hand only,” he corrected, his own sword held easily in his right hand.

“Wouldn’t both hands give you more control?” Enjolras asked, even as he shifted the blade into his right hand.

“If you were swinging a longsword, perhaps,” Grantaire said. “But this measly weapon requires just the one.” He paused to give Enjolras a calculating look. “Will you be giving me this much trouble for every instruction I give you?” Enjolras scowled but did not press the matter further. “Now turn so that you face me side-on,” Grantaire ordered. “That way you present a smaller target.”

Enjolras turned obediently, feeling rather foolish. “Like this?” he asked, holding the sword in front of his side, his shoulders and head turning automatically but leaving most of his body facing away.

Grantaire nodded. “Now your feet,” he instructed. “Place your weight on your front foot. And allow me to examine your grip.” He closed the space between them, standing behind Enjolras, so close that his chest brushed against Enjolras’s back, and Enjolras swallowed, feeling suddenly and inexplicably nervous. “Not so tightly,” Grantaire said into his ear, and he placed one hand on top of Enjolras’s, loosening his grip and rearranging his fingers. His other hand rested lightly on Enjolras’s hip, shifting his weight with a gentle touch.

His hands lingered on Enjolras’s hand and hip perhaps a moment too long, and Enjolras cleared his throat. “Are we almost ready to begin?” he asked, his voice hoarse.

Grantaire stepped away from him, and Enjolras flinched at the sudden loss of heat. “As ready as I suppose we will ever be,” Grantaire said, picking up his own sword and mirroring Enjolras’s stance a few paces away.

For one long moment, they both just looked at each other, and Enjolras wondered how they would look to any who happened to pass by. “What happens now?” he asked.

Grantaire grinned. “Now, we fight.”

Without warning, he moved rapidly, so quickly that Enjolras barely had time to raise his sword before Grantaire brought his whistling down to meet Enjolras’s with a loud clang. The clash sent vibrations up Enjolras’s arm, but he had no time to recover before Grantaire aimed a slash at his side.

He managed to avoid the blow, and danced out of reach of the next thrust, even managing to aim a swipe of his own at Grantaire’s arm. But his blade did not connect, and he was so surprised that he did not have time to parry Grantaire’s next swing from his other side. The dulled sabre caught him on his shoulder, a sudden, stinging blow that was almost certain to leave a bruise. “Ow,” he winced, though in truth his pride suffered the greater injury than had his shoulder.

Grantaire retreated as quickly as he had started, still grinning. He didn’t look like he had even broken a sweat, where Enjolras’s hair was all but plastered to his forehead. “Good,” Grantaire said, raising his sword again. “This time, faster.”

Enjolras barely had time to impatiently brush his hair out of his eyes when Grantaire lunged again. True to his word, the blows came faster this time, Grantaire’s sword reduced to a blur as he swung at Enjolras from seemingly all sides. Enjolras managed to parry the first several attacks, but he was tiring quickly, and a sudden upward swing from Grantaire caused Enjolras’s sword to clatter out of his hand.

Enjolras immediately knelt to pick it up, but before he could even reach the sword, Grantaire’s blade was at his throat. Enjolras stared down at the metal, barely a breath away from his bare skin, and he swallowed as Grantaire took a step closer. 

But Grantaire merely used the tip of his sword blade to tilt Enjolras’s chin up so that their eyes met, the move surprisingly gentle given the ferocity of his earlier attacks. “If there was a real fight, you would be dead,” Grantaire told him.

“Then I suppose I am glad this was not a real fight,” Enjolras managed, panting as he stared up at Grantaire, who grinned.

“I suppose not,” he agreed, finally flicking his sword away from Enjolras’s throat before bending to offer Enjolras his hand to help him to his feet.

Enjolras let Grantaire pull him to his feet and winced as he rolled his shoulders and prodded at his arm, which had already begun to swell where Grantaire had hit him. “At least Joly did not lie in his estimation of your skill.”

To his surprise, Grantaire barked a laugh. “Oh, about that…” he started, pouring himself a cup of wine. “I’m afraid that Joly sold you a pack of lies.”

Enjolras’s eyes narrowed. “What do you mean?”

“I mean that I have no more skill with a blade than any of our number,” Grantaire told him cheerfully, lifting his cup in a mock toast. “My speciality is in foot-fencing, which involves no fencing or blades of any kind.”

“Oh.”

“Oh,” Grantaire agreed, watching him closely.

Enjolras opened his mouth to speak but couldn’t seem to find any words. He settled for telling Grantaire, a little desperately, “But you were so good.”

Grantaire arched an eyebrow. “Was I? Or was I merely better than you?”

Enjolras felt like Grantaire had hit him in the stomach instead of the arm. He had gone to him to ask a favor, and this was how Grantaire repaid his trust? By making a mockery of his request? “And why, may I ask, did you need to make a fool of me this way?” he asked stiffly.

Grantaire shrugged. “I saw an opportunity for amusement, and I took it,” he said easily. “And now I have an excellent story to share with any of our comrades who might ask.”

A muscle worked in Enjolras’s cheek. “Then I sincerely hope that you have received what you were looking for,” he said icily. “I suppose the fault is mine for ever believing you were capable of sincerity.”

For a brief moment, Grantaire looked stricken, but Enjolras did not wait for whatever platitudes he might offer, instead turning on heel and storming off, his pride again hurting far worse than any of the physical aches he now bore.

He had barely gotten a half dozen steps outside when a thought struck him, and he paused in his step, debating whether it would do any good to ask further. But curiosity got the better of him, and he doubled back, surprising Grantaire so much when he threw the door open that the man slopped half his cup of wine on himself. “Tell me again, why put me through this charade?”

Grantaire shook his head, trying in vain to blot the wine that stained his shirt. “I told you, I saw an opportunity—”

Enjolras shook his head. “I do not believe that.”

“Whyever not?” Grantaire asked, giving up on the wine stain and instead crossing to refill his cup.

“If your goal was simply to embarrass me, you would’ve ensured we had an audience, not gone out of your way to ensure we would be alone,” Enjolras pointed out. “Besides, you are not generally so malicious.”

“Maybe not,” Grantaire agreed. He suddenly grabbed his sword from where he had set it on the table and whirled so that it was again pointed at Enjolras’s throat. “Or maybe I just like the way you look at the end of my sword.”

Enjolras smiled, just lightly. “Now that I do believe.” He sidestepped away from Grantaire’s sword. “But as this is twice now that you could have killed me and did not, I also believe you owe me some honesty.” He leveled an even look at Grantaire. “Why go along with the charade?”

Grantaire’s shoulders slumped, and he lowered his sword with a sigh. “Because if I said no, you would find a different teacher,” he said tiredly.

“One who might actually possess the skills I sought to learn,” Enjolras said sourly.

But Grantaire shook his head. “No,” he said, a little sadly. “One who might teach you that which I could not bring myself to.”

Enjolras frowned. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, you did not wish to learn to fence. You wished to learn how to kill with a blade.”

Grantaire delivered the words flatly, and Enjolras was momentarily taken aback by his tone. “Yes,” he said, seeing no point now in denying it. 

Grantaire’s expression tightened. “And that is something I could not willingly bring myself to let you learn.” He paused and snorted. “Of course, when I saw how ill-equipped you were to fight with a blade, it seemed less important to let the charade continue. Not even a trained swordsman could get you up to snuff.”

Enjolras was temporarily stung by Grantaire’s harsh – if undoubtedly true – assessment of his skill, but he refused to allow himself to be distracted. “But why were you not willing to let me learn?” he demanded. “Do you think I will be better protected if I am left defenseless when I have used my last shot?”

Grantaire traded his sword for his cup of wine and took a swig before answering, uncharacteristically quiet, “No.”

“So you do not think it would be valuable for me to learn to swing a blade?” 

“I think it would be valuable for you to learn to enjoy drinking wine and taking someone to your bed, but you’ve never much cared what I think,” Grantaire said.

Enjolras felt himself flush but was undeterred. “Perhaps not. But you’re deflecting.”

Grantaire drained his cup and set it down harder than he likely intended, the sound of the metal against the wooden table echoing the sound of Enjolras’s sword clattering from his hand earlier. “I learned long ago that you will not keep your body out of harm’s way when the time comes,” he said, his voice low. “Forgive me for thinking that I might do my part to protect your soul.”

Enjolras stared at him. “What does any og this have to do with my soul?” he asked slowly.

Grantaire just arched an eyebrow. “I suppose it is for every man to decide whether taking another’s life tarnishes his soul,” he mused before his expression hardened. “But whatever blood ends up on your hands, I will have no part in teaching you a more efficient way of putting it there.”

Finally, Enjolras understood, and he felt as though the floor had shifted underneath him. For Grantaire to think even about, let alone care so much about the state of his soul and what damage he might do to it in whatever battle was to come… 

He was not often at a loss for words, but invariably, it was always Grantaire who put him there, who made him feel unsteady when he would rather be sure-footed, but this time, it was not by his usual mockery that Grantaire had so unmoored him. This was as close as Enjolras had ever been to witnessing Grantaire caring for him, and the glimpse, even in these most unusual of circumstances, was almost more than Enjolras could bear.

So much so that he could do only what Grantaire normally did when confronted with that which he would rather not face: deflect. “I did not think you believed in souls,” he said, aiming for levity and missing by a mile.

Grantaire shrugged. “I don’t.”

And yet the man who professed no belief save in his full glass had dragged himself from his apartment in the dead of night to spar with him if just delay him for that much longer from learning another way to kill a man.

Say what you would about Grantaire, and Enjolras had certainly spared no words over the years, but he was certainly dedicated.

Enjolras only wished that his dedication was to something far less human and fallible.

Grantaire headed toward the door, clearly not waiting for whatever judgment Enjolras might pass on him, but he nonetheless paused when Enjolras called after him, “We are not yet done.”

“What more is there to discuss?” Grantaire asked without turning. “There is nothing that I can teach you.”

“Maybe not,” Enjolras said and Grantaire turned, his expression wary. Enjolras sighed. “As you have said, there is little chance at me becoming so proficient with a blade that I would yet do any real damage. And if you truly seek to protect me, whether in body or in soul, will you not at least help me learn to defend myself, should the time come?” Grantaire still didn’t look convinced and Enjolras pressed, “I am certain that you can at least help me to keep myself alive.”

Grantaire’s expression was unreadable. “Would that I could,” he murmured, so low that Enjolras could barely hear him.

Enjolras picked the sword up from where Grantaire had dropped it and turned it to offer it to him hilt-first. “Please, Grantaire,” he said quietly.

Grantaire took the sword reluctantly. “Why would you not just get a proper teacher?” he asked. “Why would you continue to put yourself through this, and with me of all people?”

“Because I trust you, of all people,” Enjolras told him. He wasn’t sure that he had ever believed the words as much as he did now. “Because perhaps you are correct, and I have put too much stock in death and not enough in defense. And…” He hesitated. “Perhaps just because I would like the chance to see what you look like at the end of my blade.”

Grantaire bowed his head for a long moment, and Enjolras realized that he was holding his breath, waiting for his answer. “Flattery will get you everywhere,” Grantaire said finally, but he was smiling again, a small, slightly cocky smile, and Enjolras released the breath he had been holding in relief. “But do be warned – I may not have much skill, but I will not make this easy for you.”

Enjolras smiled as well. “I would expect nothing less.”

#enjolras #grantaire #exr #enjolras x grantaire #enjoltaire #joly #bossuet #les miserables #fanfiction #les mis spfc 2021 #look i just wanted to write grantaire tipping Enjolras's chin up with a sword #and truly who cares how convoluted the premise is if it gets us that #canon era #developing relationship #mostly fluff #or at least mostly light #but like it's canon era so there's always angst in the distance....

[dannypuro]

I would be delighted by a breakdown (a la the instrument one you just did) of each of the something telling verse's chararacters' relationships to cooking / baking! Thank you for blessing us with bonus content & good luck with finals!!

of course of course of course there is nothing that i would like to do more! thank u! (Something Telling verse: modern au with canon-era, time-zapped enjolras)

grantaire is a given. he loves cooking because he is at heart very much a snob and who better to cook his food than himself (and also the set of 8-12 takeout restaurants he orders from all the fucking time)? his love language is food. his only form of self-care is food. etc etc etc. he absolutely owns more than three aprons but does not always wear them because they were all gag gifts from his friends and they all have suggestive slogans on them and sometimes that is simply not the vibe. hot insufferable kitchen man.

enjolras is also a given. this is a man who has never ever learned to cook and is not going to start now. be real. he grew up a boy in a decently wealthy family in the early 19th century and then lived on his own at a time period where it was perfectly acceptable to never ever cook for yourself and just eat what your landlady cooks for every meal. think college boy but add a time period where food was just genuinely worse. no wonder he fell in love with grantaire the second he made him instant ramen. he will slowly absorb cooking knowledge from grantaire but it will take a very very very long time and he will not be aware of this fact.

combeferre is a stressed-out medical man and he has no time for fancy cooking, but he’s used to making edible things on a student budget and now he has slightly more money and slightly more time so. like. he can make a pasta dish. he can cook a nice simple meal. he has adequate knife skills. this is a man who can be trusted in a kitchen, but maybe should not be given artistic control.

jehan cannot cook. at all. get real. they are a rich, ex-child-star who uses their stove for decorative purposes. they have literally never cooked anything. they eat out or get takeout for every single meal, or they bother grantaire until grantaire invites them over for dinner. the mere idea of them cooking gives grantaire and combeferre immeasurable anxiety.

courfeyrac knows how to make, like, two fancy, impressive dishes, and he can only do it very slowly because in reality his knife skills and kitchen competences are POOR. all the rest of his food is really just sad mid-20s man food. chicken. chicken and rice. orzo (vaguely burnt). pasta, grocery store pesto. a lot of frozen, pre-made meals that are kind of expensive and therefore surprisingly good. also a lot of delivery. he just feels like restaurants are more fun and all the rest is just... not his concern. his food is restaurant food and then filler food (home-cooked), miscellaneous. 

marius........... oh marius. marius SHOULD know how to cook, because he’s broke, and he can’t afford to eat out or order in or get pre-made shit. however. he eats like a broke college student. ramen. ramen with egg. egg. egg with white rice. white rice. courfeyrac eventually just managed to convince him that it was easier for them to share meals (aka it is better for courfeyrac’s soul when marius is eating things that save him from scurvy.)

cosette has never needed to learn how to cook. of course she hasn’t. she’s in grad school and jvj is a casserole dad with separation anxiety. he stocks her freezer every week. she goes home for dinner like every other evening. she wouldn’t know how to boil water and when she has to she calls her papa and jvj just comes over and does it for her. she’s the person who brings baked goods to social events but also she knows nothing about said baked goods or how they are made. somebody’s like “hey cosette! these are great cookies, what kind are they?” and she just.... “😬 they are.... soft ones.....” and has to text jvj frantically for the sake of her reputation. she also owns multiple aprons. she wears them while she reheats the food jvj made her. god bless.

bahorel can cook but he has also been just a little bit too influenced by gym bro culture. like, he eats normal food and doesn’t worry about it, especially when it comes to takeout, but also he thinks that Chicken Only And A Protein Smoothie is a normal thing to eat for dinner, much to grantaire’s disappointment and rage. feuilly will eventually bully him out of this and he will once again be culinarily tolerable. just give him time.

feuilly can cook, but he was also so genuinely broke when he came to paris that he got used to cooking on a shoestring budget and never really realized that he could stop doing that when he got a better-paying job. bahorel has been sneakily trying to feed him for years. lots of “haha bro i guess i accidentally ordered your favorite dish again :^/ guess you have to eat it or i’ll throw it away and that would be food waste :^/ no i will not eat it myself” which was not very subtle but feuilly actually really appreciated it so much. once he and bahorel start dating he gets a lot more comfortable with baz paying for his food/groceries/whatever.

joly, bossuet, and musichetta are..... Threats. they love to cook! especially all together! it’s a fun throuple activity! they do it every night! However. cooking is a fun game for them, not a serious culinary skill. they do not use recipes. they do not stick to one cuisine per dish. they do not know how food chemistry works. they are not interested in learning. their food is actually pretty decent (sometimes) and it’s very interesting, but they are completely terrifying to watch in the kitchen. bossuet injures himself every other day. musichetta is a force of chaos. if you leave a dairy product outside of the fridge for longer than 20 seconds joly will have a stress aneurysm. in other words... they are having fun leave them be. grantaire has to physically remove himself from the vicinity whenever they do anything food-related.

anyways, my askbox is OPEN to questions/prompts/headcanons/etc. please send me asks so that i may continue to procrastinate on my finals 😗

#something telling #les miserables #les amis de l'abc #les mis #Anonymous

[astoryinred]

3, 10, 17, and 22 about enjolras for character asks ^-^

Oh this is fun!

3. What clothing do they usually wear? Do they keep up with the era's fashion? Would they wear a wig? - Enjolras hardly considers himself a man of fashion: he will wear whatever is comfortable but also smart looking. In this case it means a shirt, waistcoat, morning coat or tail coat, cravat (in a small knot), trousers, and a good pair of shoes or boots. He thinks breeches make him look like a fop. He also doesn't particularly care if his clothes are a year or two behind what is trendy, and would just as soon have a tailor repair or update his clothes instead of getting a new suit altogether. He has no need for a wig and will never have need for it.

10. Can they cook? How many different meals can they make? What is their favourite? What would they like to try?

- Enjolras can boil an egg, but he probably cannot make a several course meal. He doesn't particularly like cooking, to be honest. But if asked to show off, he can come up with some good fried fish or a decent summer salad. He is a bit piqued by charcuterie boards and would like to learn how to appreciate them.

17. Can they sing? What kinds of songs do they know?

- Oh yes, Enjolras can sing. He has a good voice (baritone). He knows a lot of folk songs in Occitan, and can be caught singing them or humming them sometimes. He has picked up some of the more sane drinking songs from his friends, and can keep up.

22. How superstitious are they? Do they have any personal rituals/traditions?

- Enjolras doesn't take stock into superstitions, even if he knows all of them. His personal rituals and traditions are built more around the people he loves and reveres.

Every June 5, he will visit the Rue de Chanvrerie to honor those who died there.

Every morning he winds the watch Combeferre gave him a year after the barricade, and he visits his friend at his home in Picpus at least once every few weeks.

He takes up invites to go sparring or shooting with Courfeyrac since it's the time that they can talk about things without colleagues/ladies/kids butting in.

Every day he tells Eponine that he will see her later, since that phrase serves to ground them both. He also does wait for that phrase coming from her if she's the one leaving the house first.

He lets Gavroche call him a 'statue' as an old joke, but he calls Neville and Jacques 'petit' since they are practically his sons.

He calls Jehan his brother and Azelma his sister because those two always wanted older brothers but never got that.

He leaves doors unlocked for Feuilly, so the latter never feels unwelcome.

He always brings some curiosity or food for Bahorel when visiting him at the Prefecture.

When he gets a package of dried citrons from his extended family in Provence, he shares them with Joly and Bossuet.

He lets Grantaire throw around mythological allusions because that's how they get each other (after all these years).

He makes sure to talk to both Marius and Cosette if there are some decisions that need to be made involving that family, since he knows Cosette has a mind of her own.

#enjolras #character asks

[malewifegrantaire]

The Birthday Thing

READ PART ONE HERE

READ PART TWO HERE

PART THREE: The titular “Thing.”

Combeferre had put himself in charge of the cell phone bag, a move that Enjolras heartily objected to.

“You really don’t have to do that.” Enjolras said. “You should be having fun!”

“I will be having fun!” Combeferre promised. “But if we’re gonna enforce a no cell phone policy, someone has to keep an eye on them in case someone’s mom calls or something.”

“If my mom calls, do me a favor and send her to voicemail.” Courfeyrac interrupted. Courfeyrac had managed to simultaneously be the first and last person to arrive, even though the party was being thrown in his apartment. He’d set everything up, welcomed Enjolras and Combeferre, and then left to go pick up his plus-one who, Combeferre noticed, was standing very nervously behind Courfeyrac clutching a bouquet of flowers.

“Uh, hi. Thank you, uh, thanks for having me, I know we don’t know each other too well. We met once, I don’t know if you remember-“

“I remember.” Combeferre said, and Marius made a face that said quite plainly he wished he hadn’t remembered him at all. Enjolras only smiled.

“Oh, it’s you! You’re, yeah, you’re that guy, I remember you! Marius. Okay, yeah! Thank you for coming.” he said. Marius’ shoulders relaxed a bit, and he held out the bouquet.

“These are for you. Or for the house, I guess. I know it said no gifts but I thought, but if you don’t want anything I - sorry, I know that, but, it’s fine I can just-“

“These are very nice, thank you. I appreciate it.” Enjolras said graciously.

Combeferre grabbed the tote bag full of cell phones and held it open. “Well, confiscation time. Cough ‘em up, fellas.” he said. Courfeyrac took it upon himself to discard of Marius’ phone, but before he did, something on Marius’ screen made him giggle.

“I didn’t know you had a sister, Marius.”

Marius frowned. “Sister? What are you - oh!”

His lock screen was a selfie of a teenage girl, who was making a silly face into the camera. Marius’ eyes widened, and he quickly snatched his phone away to change the picture. “This isn’t my sister,” he explained, laughing nervously. “It’s, she’s this kid I know, my neighbor.” He set his screensaver to the first thing in his camera roll, a picture of a dog wearing rain boots, and tossed the phone into the tote bag.

“Okay!” Enjolras said brightly. “Thanks again for coming, and for the flowers. Have you met everyone yet.”

“Uh, yeah.” Marius said. “I know Joly and Bossuet, I already said hi to him. And Bahorel, is he here?”

“Yes, he’s . . . I don’t know, actually. He’s somewhere.”

“And uh, Grantaire, I know him. Is he here too?”

Enjolras’ face fell a bit. As a matter of fact, Grantaire wasn’t there. Not that it was unlike him to be “fashionably” late (Enjolras hadn’t a clue what was so fashionable about lack of punctuality, but you know.) But, still, Enjolras thought . . . seeing as it was his birthday and all . . .

“Not yet,” Combeferre cut in. “But he will be. Soon.”

Courfeyrac squinted at him. “Right.” he said. “Well, we’ll go and join the fray. Come on, Enjolras, you should come join us. Combeferre’s not allowed to hog you in the kitchen all night.”

“Well, alright.” Enjolras said with a pleased sigh. “Combeferre, you don’t have to stand guard by the phones all night.”

“Agreed. I expect you to join us for karaoke!” Courfeyrac said, dragging Enjolras and Marius into the living room to mingle.

Combeferre eyed his tote bag, which was now fairly heavy. Technically, the no cell phone rule applied to him too, but rules were made to be broken, no? He scrolled through his recent contacts and hit the call button, turning away from the kitchen island so as not to be spotted.

“Hello?”

“Uh, yeah, hello?” Combeferre whispered into the phone. “Where are you?”

“Hello??”

“Hello? Can you hear me?”

“Nah, I’m just fucking with you. You’ve reached Grantaire’s voicemail. My phone is either lost or dead or I just don’t want to pick up, so shoot me a text. If it’s an emergency, call literally anyone else. While you’re here, check out this sick beep.”

There was a beep. Fucker.

Combeferre groaned. He should have known this would happen. He looked at Enjolras, who was laughing at something Feuilly was saying. He was a great friend, Enjolras. Maybe the greatest. He didn’t want gifts or even a fancy party. He just wanted all of his friends under one roof for a night. It wasn’t that much to ask for.

He was going to get what he wanted. Combeferre would see to it.

***

Someone was knocking at the door, and Grantaire was pretty sure he knew who it was, but he opened it anyway. Combeferre was standing arms folded, looking angrier than Grantaire had ever seen him (and Grantaire had seen Combeferre argue about politics.)

“Who buzzed you in?” he asked stupidly.

Combeferre didn’t wait for an invitation, he brushed past Grantaire into the apartment. He looked like he was going to throw a punch. Grantaire almost hoped he would. He was usually better with fists than with words.

“What the fuck?” Combeferre asked. It wasn’t a rhetorical question.

“I don’t know what you want me to say.”

“Say you got hit in the head and you’re suffering from amnesia, because other than that I can not think of a reason you are in this apartment in pajamas right now.”

Grantaire looked up at Combeferre. “I got hit in the head and I’m suffering from amnesia.” he said.

Combeferre wanted to scream. “Come on.” he said, exercising an impressive amount of restraint. “Get your clothes on. Let’s go.”

“Uh, no, I’m not going. I don’t even know why your here, I already texted Enjolras.”

Combeferre stared at him for a beat, then started rummaging through the tote bag he was carrying. Grantaire blinked in confusion.

“Is that everyone’s phones?” he asked.

“Yeah, it’s a screen free party.” Combeferre muttered.

“But you’re here. So nobody at the apartment has a phone. What if there’s an emergency?”

“There won’t be an emergency. Also, Jehan has his phone.” Combeferre had given it to him before he left. He said he was just running out to grab some more drinks, but he was pretty sure Jehan could tell he was lying. He probably should have left the entire bag with Jehan, but he hadn’t been thinking clearly. “Also,” Combeferre added, angrily. “I shouldn’t have had to leave anything with anyone, because you should be at Courfeyrac’s right now.”

Grantaire frowned. Combeferre noticed for the first time how very tired he looked. Very tired, and very unhappy. While he was at it, he also noticed an envelope with Enjolras’ name written in pretty cursive on the coffee table. And an outfit laid carefully out across the couch. Grantaire wasn’t acting his usual self. He seemed . . . more withdrawn. Combeferre always thought of Grantaire as bold and utterly shameless. Maybe this is what it looked like when Grantaire was embarrassed. He went back to looking for Enjolras’ phone.

sorry, can’t make it tonight. wish i could be there, not feeling well. have a blast.

Combeferre read the message aloud. “This is bullshit.” he decided. “I’m deleting this.”

“Oh, you know Enjolras’ password,” Grantaire commented, watching Combeferre. “How sweet.”

“It’s literally 1-2-3-4.” Why did he say that? Now Enjolras would have to change it. Goddamn it.

“Look, I’m actually not feeling well.” Grantaire lied. “So, if you could kindly fuck off? I’d super appreciate it.”

Combeferre looked him up and down. “I think you self sabotage, Grantaire.” he said, earning a mean bark of a laugh from the shorter man.

“Gee thanks. How much do I owe you for this session, doc?”

“Stop, I’m being - I’m trying to be real with you.” Grantaire looked amused by the notion. Combeferre carried on, “Everyone is trying to be friends with you. Why do you insist on making that so difficult?”

“Sorry it’s been such a pain in the ass, I truly am.” Grantaire said, rolling his eyes petulantly. “Look, we all know what kind of friend I am. I’m good for carousing and not much else. It’s no trouble, after all, everyone needs a good drinking buddy, and I am happy to oblige. But this shit? Dinner parties - sorry, not party, thing. And, and, folding laundry together and going for picnics in the park and Saturday brunch or whatever the fuck? That’s not me. Sorry. I really wish it was but, you know. ‘To thine own self be true’ and all that.”

Combeferre folded his arms across his chest. He knew what he needed to ask, but he really, really didn’t want to. Combeferre was a polite person, but what good is politeness if you can’t extend it to people that aren’t always easy to be around? Kind and good, that’s what he tried to be. But maybe he’d find out that he wasn’t kind or good, not really. Not when it counted.

“Grantaire, did I do something to you?”

Grantaire seemed taken aback. “What?”

Combeferre really didn’t want to ask again. “Did I, you know. Is there something I did? Or, I don’t know, do? I just . . . why don’t you like me?”

There was a silence. Grantaire looked at Combeferre, his face twisted in anxiety. This could not be happening.

“Combeferre.” he said slowly. “I don’t dislike you.”

“It’s okay, I shouldn’t have even - but like. You do hang out with the others. Like I know I’m not always down for whatever, but you’re friends with everyone. You’re friends with fucking Marius Pontmercy, who I literally forgot existed until this week. So I know you like all them, obviously you’re friends with Joly and Bossuet, and you go out with Bahorel and Courfeyrac a lot, and you’re always talking to Feuilly and Jehan about whatever, and obviously you like Enjolras so it’s just me, then. I feel like maybe I did something to you but I don’t know what it was or what it is and I don’t know how to fix it? Or apologize? I don’t know, I know we don’t all have to be friends, like I’m not forcing you to be my friend or anything, but I don’t know. I’d like to be.”

Grantaire frowned. “I hate when you do that.” he said, which is not exactly the response Combeferre was hoping for. His heart sunk.

“Do what?”

“Say stuff about Enjolras like that. Like wink-wink nudge-nudge, obviously you like him and oh my god he totally wanted you here. Like I get it, but you don’t have to make fun.” Grantaire’s eyes were fixed on the ground. His pajama pants didn’t have pockets to shove his hands into, so instead they were sort of nervously pulling at the drawstring.

Combeferre didn’t know what to say. He felt absolutely terrible. “I didn’t - I’m sorry. I never meant to make fun. I just meant that I know you guys have like, you know. You have a different relationship than the rest of us, I guess.”

“Fuck off.” Grantaire said, but it came out quiet and unsure of itself.

“Look, I’m only here because I want Enjolras to have a good birthday. I know my best friend, and I know that he will have a great time and be grateful for everyone who came whether you’re there or not.”

“Okay.” Grantaire said, meeting Combeferre’s eyes at last.

“But I also know that he’s going to be thinking all night about why you didn’t show, and he’s going to bring it up for the next month in the way he does whenever he brings you up as if he’s just casually curious even though he’s a terrible actor. And honestly? Maybe it’s selfish, but I don’t want to have to deal with all that. Which is why I’m here to bring you to the party.”

“I didn’t know you had a selfish bone in your body.” Grantaire laughed, almost sounding impressed.

“Well, I’m only human.”

“It doesn’t seem like that, sometimes.” Grantaire said. “You three. You seem like something else entirely. Demigods, maybe. Something out of a book.”

“Well, we’re not. We’re people. Get your clothes on, please.”

Maybe for the first time in all of their years of acquaintance, Grantaire nodded and quietly obliged.

***

“Well, look what the cat dragged in.” Bahorel said, more fond than annoyed. Everyone in the apartment greeted Grantaire with a cheer. He gave a sheepish grin in return.

“You know me. I never miss a party.” he said.

Courfeyrac intercepted Combeferre at the door. “I was wondering where you went.” he said, grinning from ear to ear. “Excellent work.”

“Well, you know. It’s his birthday.”

“Speak of the devil.”

Enjolras had made his way from across the apartment to say hello. He looked more beautiful than Grantaire had ever seen him, his golden hair tucked behind his ears, which were blushing pink. Not that this meant much - every time Grantaire looked at Enjolras he seemed more beautiful than the last.

“Glad you could make it.” he said, and he meant it.

“Better late than never, right?” Grantaire joked, but with much more gentleness and much less bravado than he jokes with any of the others. Enjolras usually had this effect on him. “You look nice.”

“Thank you.” Enjolras smiled, and his teeth were so white it was unfair and his eyes were so bright Grantaire could probably sue for damage to his retinas. He pulled an envelope out of his pocket.

“This is, uh, it’s for you. I know it said no gifts but in my opinion that’s bullshit, so. Here.”

“Thank you.” Enjolras said again. “Can I open it now?”

“It’s your present, so. It’s not much, just a gift card.”

Enjolras tore open the envelope. He looked at the contents curiously. Grantaire felt himself starting to sweat.

“What’s Claire’s?” Enjolras asked.

“The fuck?” Grantaire said, grabbing the gift card. Jesus Christ. “I meant to get a regular one, fuck me. Uh, I’m pretty sure Claire’s is a children’s jewelry store. You could get a phone case. Or pierce your ears, that could be fun! I think I have a receipt at home somewhere, I’ll get it to you and you can get an actual gift card. Sorry about that.”

“It’s fine.” Enjolras said, beaming. “Thank you.”

“No, uh, thanks for the invite.”

A phone started ringing from inside of Combeferre’s bag. He fished around for a while before finding the culprit. A familiar looking girl’s contact image lit up the screen.

“Marius, it’s your sister.”

Marius’ eyes went wide, and he rushed to grab his phone. “She’s not my sister. Hello?” he said into the speaker, his face contorting into an indecipherable expression before running into the bathroom to take his call. Combeferre couldn’t help but roll his eyes, which Grantaire noticed with a giggle. Courfeyrac had somehow made his way to the top of a stool, and he was clanging a fork to his glass.

“Everyone! Eyes up here! So, who’s ready for a game?!”

#my fic #epilogue coming a little later #this has been fun and silly hope u enjoy :P #combeferre #grantaire #enjolras #e/r #les amis #les amis fanfiction #les miserables #les mis #les miserables fanfiction #:D #uhhh #oh yea #marius #also éponine is referenced i’m not tagging her but :D :P #that’s all for now